


Orange, White, and Royal Black

by found_the_good_things



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston, We Are The Tigers - Allen
Genre: F/F, anne is thatboleyngirlreads, if you want to talk to both authors then dm anne on tumblr, inspired by a book you all should read, one shots because we don't want to write a whole multichapter fic, tags will be updated as we go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25837957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/found_the_good_things/pseuds/found_the_good_things
Summary: Eva Sanchez is the first daughter of the United States. She's beautiful, smart, and her mom is the president. She's basically an American princess. The problem is that she's got a rivalry with an actual princess: Princess Kate of Wales. An embarrassing altercation sends them scrambling to save face, and soon they're faking a friendship. But as their relationship slowly gets deeper and more dangerous then they ever could have imagined, their love lives become tangled in politics and become a secret they both struggle to keep.Inspired by the book Red, White, and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston.Cowritten with AnonAnon.Oneshot collection.The book Red, White, and Royal Blue does contain smut, but the one-shots won't.
Relationships: Chess & Kate (We Are The Tigers), Clark & Eva Sanchez (We Are The Tigers), Kate/Eva Sanchez (We Are The Tigers)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 41





	1. The Turkey Fiasco

“Eva, it’s common knowledge and it is not my fault you are just now finding this out!”

Eva chases her mom down the hallway, tripping over the edge of a rug. “I’m sorry, do you mean to tell me that part of the American taxpayers’ money goes towards a 5-star hotel suite for two turkeys every  _ year _ ?”

“Yes, and there are two turkeys named Cornbread and Stuffing in a motorcade on Pennsylvania Avenue right now. There’s no time to move them.”

“Bring them here.”

“Where? Have you been spending all your nights building a  _ turkey habitat _ ? I actually thought you had been studying. Eva, there’s nowhere to put them in our historically protected house!”

“Put them in my room.”

That gets her mom to turn around. “What?”

“Put the turkeys in my room.” Eva crosses her arms. “How different could it be?”

“No.”

“Put the turkeys in my room.”

“Not happening.”

“Put them in my room, put them in my room, put them in my room-”

Later that night, as Eva stares into the lifeless eyes of a prehistoric bird of prey and realizes her fear of large birds, she has some regrets.

**_THEY KNOW_ ** , she texts Kate, even though it’s nearly three AM in London.  **_THEY KNOW I ROBBED THEM OF A 5-STAR SUITE AND THEY ARE GOING TO BRUTALLY MURDER ME OVER IT._ **

**_send pics_ ** , is Kate’s oh-so-sympathetic response.

**_Seriously?_ **

**_pics or it didn't happen_ **

**_How do you even know that term? You're fancy British royalty._ **

**_i have my ways. pics._ **

Eva huffs, then holds up her phone and snaps a quick picture of Cornbread to send to Kate.

**_you actually have turkeys in your room_ **

**_Yeah, and I regret it._ **

**_i thought you were joking._ **

**_Definitely not._ **

Eva jumps at another ominous gobble from the on-suite room.

**_I think they might actually kill me._ **

**_i think he’s cute_ **

**_I’m possibly about to die and you’re calling my murderers cute?_ **

**_yes_ **

Texting with Kate has become a daily occurrence. She’s annoying, but she can also be funny on occasion. And for whatever reason, Eva just can’t stop. She’s sent countless selfies to Kate, all of them goofy, texted her insults and laughed at her sarcastic replies. Besides, Kate started it by texting her that stupid photo in the middle of a meeting. It’s her fault, really. Her fault.

**_Believe me, they’re not cute. If only you could hear these MENACING GOBBLES_ **

**_ah, yes, the most famously sinister animal sound of all time: the turkey gobble_ **

**_If you could hear it, you wouldn’t be laughing, believe me._ **

That gives Eva an idea.

“Alright, fucker, you can hear this terrifying gobble for yourself,” she says as soon as the call connects.

“Eva?” Kate’s voice is scratchy and tired over the phone. “Have you seriously just rung me at three o’clock in the morning to make me listen to a turkey?”

“Yep.” Eva looks over at Cornbread. “God, it’s like it can see into my  _ soul. _ Cornbread knows my sins, Kate. Cornbread knows what I have done, and he is here to make me atone.”

Kate mumbles something Eva can’t discern.

“What was that?” Eva asks.

“Nothing.” Kate sighs heavily. “Alright, let’s hear this terrifying turkey gobble.” There’s a rustle over the phone, and Eva imagines Kate in her grey t-shirt and running shorts, rolling over in bed, maybe to turn on a lamp, with sleepy eyes and mussed hair.

She pushes that mental image away and holds the phone out to the cage for Kate to hear.

They wait a beat.

Cornbread doesn’t gobble.

“How terrifying,” Kate says dryly, a yawn warping the end of her last word.

“What the fuck? He wouldn’t shut up before I called you!”  
“Mmmm, I’m sure.”  
“I swear to God, he’s doing this to spite me-” as Eva talks, Cornbread lets out a small gobble, and she almost drops the phone. “ _Tell_ me you heard that.”  
“Heard what?”

“Fuck!” Eva stares into the turkey’s eyes. “He totally gobbled.”

“Didn’t hear it.”

“Ugh, there’s gotta be a way to make him do it.” Eva pauses, looking between the phone and the turkeys. “How d'you make a turkey gobble?”  
“Try gobbling,” Kate suggests, “and see if he’ll gobble back.”

“Tell me you’re joking.”  
“Of course not. Turkey hunting is huge here in the spring,” Kate says wisely. “You just have to think like a turkey.”

“Think like a turkey,” Eva repeats slowly. “Right. Do turkeys think?”  
“Obviously. They need to be able to plot your murder.”  
“Ha ha, very funny.” Eva sighs. “Alright, how do I think like a turkey?”

“Do what I tell you.” Kate yawns again, then continues. “Get as close to the turkey as you can.”

Eva does. She doesn’t like it, but she does, leaning right up against the cage.

“Make eye contact with the turkey.”

Every second of eye contact with the turkey makes Eva’s skin crawl.

“Do you have it?”

“Unfortunately, yes. This better work.”

“It will. Now: connect with the turkey, earn its trust…”

Something in Eva begins to doubt Kate.

“...now buy a summer home in Majorca with the turkey-”

“You fucking asshole!” Eva jumps backward, away from the cage, as Kate laughs maniacally. “What the fuck?”

“You can’t even hunt turkeys in England, Eva, it’s your own fault for not knowing that,” Kate says through her laughter.

“Apparently there’s a lot of things I don’t know about turkeys,” Eva mutters, a bit embarrassed, sitting back on the bed. Then the turkey gobbles, and she shrieks. “Holy shit! Tell me you heard that!”  
“Sorry, what? Connection issues.”  
“I can’t wait for Cornbread to put me out of my misery.”

“Alright, I did hear it,” Kate admits. “And it was quite frightening.”  
“They’re going to kill me.”

“Probably.”

“Kate! You’re not supposed to  _ say _ that!”

“Sorry.” There’s an awkward moment of silence. “Where’s your brother been for all of this? Luca?”

“He’s with Clark.”  
“Boys’ night?”

“Apparently. I’m the only one stuck babysitting some murderous birds.” Eva lays back on her bed and stares at the ceiling.

“Are you intending to stay up and watch them all night?”

“Dunno! I guess? I mean, I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep with them in my room.”

“Couldn’t you go and sleep elsewhere? Your home isn’t exactly a palace, but surely you have spare rooms.”

“And leave them  _ unsupervised?! _ Let them murder everyone? Kate, they’re literally descended from raptors, and I’ve seen Jurassic Park. I’m not risking  _ anything _ .” Eva scoffs. “There are basically dinosaurs in my bedroom, Kate. Dinosaurs. If I go to bed, they’ll murder everyone in the entire White House. You might be dumb enough to play into their plot, but I’m not.”

“I am absolutely going to have you offed one day,” Kate says thoughtfully. “You’ll never see it coming. Our assassins are trained in discretion. They will come in the night, and it will look like a  _ humiliating _ accident.”

“What, am I going to sleepwalk right off the balcony into a pool of alligators?”

“Mmm, I was thinking more like a toilet heart attack.”

“You’re  _ evil _ .”

“I know, right? It’s a talent. You’ve been warned. Don’t fuck with the princess of Wales.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter, since the turkeys have priority.”

“On the long, long list of people who want you dead?”

“Hey, everyone  _ loves _ me. Right now, it’s just you and the turkeys, babe.”

Kate coughs. “Oh- um…” Before she can say anything, there’s a rustle from her end of the call. “Oh, hey, David. Who’s a good boy, then, yeah?” Eva assumes David is that dog Kate is always in the tabloids with, and the one on her fact sheet. It’s a moment before Kate speaks again. “I’m sure I can’t be the  _ only _ one who wants you dead.”

“Well, my middle school Spanish teacher never did like that I was fluent-”

“Oi, Mr. Wobbles, knock it off! Those are  _ mine- _ fuck off, you bastard!” Kate cuts Eva off with an interesting protest.

“What the fuck is a Mr. Wobbles?”

Eva hears an indignant ‘meow’ before Kate answers. “My sister’s stupid cat. He and David are mates, and he just tried to steal my bloody Jaffa cakes.”

“What the fuck is a Jaffa cake?”

“My God, you uncultured American  _ heathen _ . They’re like… tiny sponges with orange jam and chocolate.”

“That sounds kinda gross.”

“They’re heavenly.”

“What are you even doing right now, eating those monstrosities at 3 AM?”

“I  _ was _ trying to sleep.”

“... while eating Jabba cakes.”

“ _ Jaffa _ cakes, idiot, and… well, I couldn’t sleep. So. Jaffa cakes.” Kate pauses and sighs. “And watching TV.”

“What were you watching?”

“No.”

“Kaaaaaaaaate…”

“ _ Fine _ . Er,  _ Great British Bake-Off. _ ”

“Hmmm. Sadly, that’s not really something tease-able. Kinda cute.”

“ _ I am not cute. _ ”

“You’re watching  _ Bake-Off _ .”

“Sod  _ off. _ ”

“Nope,” Eva says, popping the p and filing that information away for later. “It’s a cute show.”

“Yeah, well. I like it. It’s funny. And the bakers’ problems always help distract me from mine.” She coughs. “Um, for example, trapped in a terrible Turkey Calamity? Turn on  _ Bake-Off _ and wash your troubles away in biscuits and soft music and pastel aesthetics.”

“You weren’t trapped in a Turkey Calamity when you started watching,” Eva commented.

“You’re missing the point. It’s a good, calm distraction.”

“Meanwhile, American cooking shows are goddamn  _ battlegrounds _ .”

“I feel like that explains loads about our differences.”

Eva laughs along with Kate, and then they sit in silence for a moment. It’s not as awkward as it could’ve been.

After a moment, Eva spoke again. “You know… you’re kinda surprising.”

“What do you mean by that? Am I going to be offended?”

“No, no, it’s just… well, you’re not a boring asshole.”

“Wow. Flattering. I’m blushing, Sanchez. Truly, I am. I’m bright red.”

“Shut up, I’m  _ trying _ to compliment you.”

“Ah, yes, not being a boring asshole. The highest of honors.”

“ _ Kate. _ ”

“ _ Eva _ .”

“Seriously. You’re just… not what I expected.” Before Kate can say anything, Eva yawns. A huge, exhausted yawn that probably means she should sleep.

Kate sighs. “Alright, Eva, listen up. The turkeys won’t kill you. Now go sleep.”

“But-”

“You’re not going to get  _ Jurassic Park _ ed. You’re not cool enough. You aren’t the bloke from  _ Seinfield _ , you’re Jeff Goldblum.”

Eva tries to swallow her grin. “That’s still a compliment.”

“Whatever. Get some sleep.”

“It’s literally 3 AM for you. You should sleep, too.”

“Well, we’d have to  _ stop talking _ first, wouldn’t we?”

“Right. Um.” Eva’s not sure if she should hang up or not. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Eva fumbles with the phone awkwardly, suddenly very aware that this was the first time they’d ever talked on the phone together. And now she’s made it awkward. Still, though, she’s smiling. A lot, actually. Cornbread stares at her like he doesn’t get it. “Okay. Good night.”

“Good  _ night _ .” Kate saves her the stress by hanging up, and Eva lets the phone fall to the bed. She’s not sure why the air feels like static electricity around her, and she wonders how she can find out.

After a moment, she decides there’s no way she’s going to be able to sleep with Cornbread watching her, so she gathers up her blankets and goes across the hall to Luca’s room - he’s staying at Clark’s, anyways. As she goes, she takes her phone back out and texts Kate.

**_I sent you pictures of the demon birds. Now I want pics of your pets. I deserve them._ **

**_you’re so needy_ ** , came the reply. Still, it was followed by a picture. Kate, in bed, a faint smile playing at her lips, with a dog under one arm and a cat sniffing the Jaffa cake wrapper on her lap. Her other hand was holding up the phone, and her eyes were tired but glittering, even in a picture.

_ She looks beautiful. _

**_this is what i must endure_ ** , she says after the picture.  **_now goodnight. honestly_ **

Eva smiles a lot as she curls up in her brother’s bed and drifts off to sleep.


	2. Cornettos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These one-shots won't take place in order of the book's occurences, more like whatever scenes we feel like writing. So, as such, Cornettos takes place before the Turkey Fiasco.

Eva has never been to Kensington Palace, and she's definitely never stayed in their guest quarters. Still, there's something almost vaguely familiar about these rooms.

Cairo had one of the attendants show Eva to her room, where her bags were waiting on a bed that was delicately carved, with spun-gold bedsheets. A bunch of the rooms in the White House have this haunted feel to them, a sense of history that hangs in the air like ghosts, but that's not what feels familiar.

It's more like… like around when her parents split up, when she was twelve. They were that type of married lawyer couple that could barely order take-out without legally binding documents, so when they split up, Eva and Luca spent that summer shuffled back and forth between Texas and LA.

It was a nice house, their dad’s place in LA. Pretty, large windows, a swimming pool, hastily thrown together bedrooms for her and Luca. She never slept well there. She’d sneak out of her room in the middle of the night, raid the freezer and stand there in the kitchen eating Helados straight from the quart, staring at the eerie light from the pool.

Obviously, the royal guest rooms don’t have eerie pool lights to eat Helados in. They don’t even  _ have  _ Helados. Eva had requested them, but apparently it was too hard to get them on such short notice. All there is in the freezer is a box of some UK ice cream.

There are differences, yeah.

She has a similar feeling, though. Being in a new, different place, knowing you have to make it work. 

At least she’ll only be here for the weekend.

“Eva, are you even listening?” Clark asks over the phone. They’re Facetiming, have been for almost half an hour.

“Hmmm, what?”

Clark’s voice is amused as he raises an eyebrow. “Kinda spaced out there for a second, didn’t you?”

“Sorry. Just… thinking, I guess. And probably a bit jet-lagged.”

“Not lost in the splendor of the palace?”

“Ugh,  _ no. _ If anything, it’s really,  _ really  _ weird. And I had to sign such a massive NDA that I think she’s planning to  _ kidnap _ me or some shit.”

“Ooooh, I wonder what she’s hiding.” Clark leans forward and props his chin up with both hands - his phone is propped up against a pile of books on his desk. “Maybe she has a secret lovechild. Or she’s a lesbian. Or she has a  _ secret lesbian lovechild. _ ”

“Nah, she’s probably a clone or a robot or something.” Eva yawns. “I just can’t tell anyone when I see proof.”

“You sound so certain.”

“I really don’t think she’s human. She’s  _ perfect. _ ” Eva hops up on the countertop, not really liking the idea of going back to her bedroom quite yet. “I don’t wanna talk about Princess Stick-Up-Her-Ass. What’s going on with your way-more-interesting life?”

Clark clicked a pen repeatedly. “Well, my boss wants me to write another column. Luca bought me a plant. Narrowed down grad school ideas to statistics or data science.”

“Those had  _ better _ be at GW. You  _ can’t  _ leave me to go back to MIT.”

“You know, either way, it  _ won’t _ be dependent on you. Remember how we sometimes talk about things that are not about you?”

“Yeah, dunno why.” Eva grins at Clark. “So, what’s the deal with your boss? Are you gunning to take over his position as king of data in DC?”

He chuckles. “Nah, new plan. I’m gonna compile and process data until I know precisely what’ll happen in the next 25 years. Then, I will move to the top of a tall hill at the edge of the city, become a recluse - actually, specifically an  _ eccentric _ recluse - and watch it all happen with binoculars from my veranda.”

Eva starts to crack up, but pauses when she hears something down the hall. Footsteps. Princesses Chess and Kate both live in a separate section of the palace, but the PPOs and Eva’s own security sleep on this floor. So it might be them.

“Hold on,” Eva says, covering the speaker on her phone.

It’s not one of the PPOs, or Eva’s security. 

It’s Princess Kate.

She’s half-awake, her eyes still partly shut and bleary. She’s not wearing a suit or fancy riding clothes like earlier - instead, she’s wearing a heather-gray t-shirt and electric blue running shorts. Her hair is tied up in a messy ponytail with several strands falling out and framing her face. She’s got blue earbuds in, and her feet are bare, with her toenails painted navy blue to match her fingernails.

She looks… human. Almost cute.

Eva doesn’t like it. She  _ definitely _ doesn’t like it.

After a long, drawn-out moment, Kate freezes and looks over at Eva, as if she’s just now seeing her there, still sitting cross-legged on the counter. She frantically pulls her earbuds out and wraps them around her phone, her ears turning a bit pink.

Eva looks down at her own phone, where Clark is clearly staring at the rumpled princess. He starts to say something, but Eva hangs up.

“Well. Hello,” Kate says, her face still confused and tired looking. Her voice is thick with exhaustion, and between that and her accent, Eva is having a hard time understanding her. “Sorry, I just, erm… Cornettos.”

Eva cocks an eyebrow at her.

Nervously, Kate steps forward and opens the freezer, pulling out the ice cream box and showing Eva the label. “Cornettos. Midnight junk craving. I’m out, and I figured they’d stocked you up.”

“Is raiding guests’ kitchens a common royal pastime?”

Kate crosses her arms and huffs, still clutching the box of ice creams. “No. Maybe. Yes. Only when I can’t sleep.” She rubs at her eyes. “Which is, well, always. So. Yes, I suppose. Didn’t think you’d be up, though.” She uncrosses her arms and looks at the box, then back up at Eva, almost like she’s looking for permission. “Do you mind if I…?”

“Oh. Go ahead.” Eva imagines saying no, just to see Kate’s expression, but denying a princess anything is probably not a wise idea, especially not in her own palace. Plus, Eva understands not being able to sleep.

Kate opens the box and takes an ice cream. Eva expects her to leave, but instead Kate glances back at her again. “Uh, do- do you know what you’ll say tomorrow?”

“ _ Yes _ .” Eva scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I’m used to public relations too, you know. You’re not special.”

She expects Kate to snap back with something equally sarcastic, but instead, she looks startled, like a deer in headlights. “I-I didn’t mean- I just- God, I, uh… d’you think maybe we should rehearse?” Eva squints uncertainly at Kate, then decides she’s just more tired than she looks.

“Rehearse?” She pushes up her glasses. “Do you need to?”

“I mean, if you want to just  _ wing  _ it…” Kate sets the box of ice creams on the counter with a bit more force than is strictly necessary.  _ There’s the bitchy princess I know and hate. _

Eva sighs, then hops off the counter and pulls out her phone. “Watch this.” She takes a photo of Kate’s hand holding her ice cream, her golden signet ring clearly in view along with a snatch of grey t-shirt and blue shorts. She opens Instagram, adding a filter on a whim.

“‘Nothing cures jet lag,’” she says in an exaggeratedly excited voice as she types, “‘like ice cream at midnight with my BFF, @princesskatherine.’ Tagging Kensington Palace… and it’s up.” She shows Kate the likes and comments already clogging her notifications. “See? This is  _ definitely _ not something to overthink.”

“I don’t  _ overthink _ things.” Kate scowls at her over her ice cream. She’s not tall, and her hair is messy, and it’s almost cute. Not quite. Eva hates her too much to find her cute.

“Sure you don’t, babe.”

Kate reddens, in anger, Eva figures, and shoves the ice cream box at her. “ _ Don’t _ call me babe.”

“Whatever you say… babe.”

“Sod  _ off. _ ”

“Hey, I’m not the one raiding my guest’s kitchen. This is my space.” Eva hops back on the kitchen counter, letting her legs dangle. “Are you done? I was on the phone.”

Kate glares at her, before rolling her eyes and straightening up, her ponytail swinging as she moves. “Right, well, don’t let me keep you.”

She walks to the door, before hesitating slightly and turning back around.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses. They look nice,” she says after a moment, her gaze softening.

Eva watches her go, knowing she should call Clark back - he’s already texted her eight times - but not prioritizing it. Not really caring, actually.

She just sits on the counter, staring at the doorway where Kate had just been, a sweating box of Cornettos next to her.

She doesn’t call Clark back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kate is not quite as good at hiding how she feels as Henry is...


	3. The Young American New Year's Eve Gala

"The Young American New Year's Eve Gala."

That's what all the papers always call it. That's what it officially is. Really, it's just a way for Eva, Clark, Luca, and their friends to lose their minds for one evening.

There's a lot to do in preparation for their night of craziness. Menus and dance floors and clothes color schemes and invitations and waivers - last year, the daughter of a Real Housewife fell down the stairs. She didn't spill her margarita, which Eva will always find impressive.

But once everything is in order, once Eva is decked out in her approved burgundy halter top dress and descending the stairs with Luca and Clark and grabbing a drink and listening to the pounding music, she can finally breathe.

It's weird, really, how quickly she relaxes, when normally she's only this calm in the quiet of her bedroom, all alone. But here, in a growing crowd of roughly three hundred of their friends, former hookups, celebrities, possible political allies, and other twenty-somethings, Eva feels so normal and human and it's so freeing.

It's barely been twenty minutes when Eva hears someone behind her and turns just before a bright floral bomber jacket takes over her vision. It's so overwhelming that she takes a minute to realize that the wearer is actually shorter than her, and is also Farrah, Kate's best friend.

Meaning Kate is here.

Eva's not excited. She's not. Really, she isn't. She and Kate might be friends, but she could live without her.

But then she sees Kate and it takes her a moment to form cohesive thoughts.

Kate's not wearing anything particularly flashy, holding up her promise from earlier to not take Eva's spotlight. But her dark blue dress hugs every curve, ends a bit higher than is probably proper for a royal, covers her arms enough to cover parts of her hands like sweater paws, and her dark hair is wavy and falls so perfectly over her shoulders.

She looks good.  _ Really _ good.

"Hey," she says, just loud enough to be heard. Eva takes a moment to answer.

"Oh, hi," she manages. "I- your dress is-is amazing."

Kate looks down, like she's seeing it for the first time. "Oh. Thank you. So is yours."

Eva nods and looks back down at her drink, suddenly nervous. Which is dumb. It's just Kate. But she's starting to think there's a lot of versions of Kate.

There's the perfect exterior she puts on for the public, the one with the neat clothes and the sports and the polite smiles.

There's the sarcastic one that tricked Eva into trying to bond with a turkey.

There's the quiet, gentle, half-asleep one that's probably got insomnia and craves Cornettos at midnight.

There's the one that told Eva everything on Christmas.

And there's this almost shy, definitely beautiful Kate, who's smiling nervously at Eva, looking overwhelmed but excited.

Eva realizes that she doesn't hate any of the Kates. Not a single one. Not even the one that made her attempt a bond with a murderous turkey.

It takes her far too long to realize that Kate's friend Farrah is flirting with her brother.

"Do mine eyes deceive me?" she's asking. "Hit me if this is out of line, Kate, but you, sir, you are the most attractive man in this entire building, I'm certain of it."

Kate crosses her arms and sighs. "Well? Can I hit her?"

Luca shakes his head and smiles. "No, don't hit her."

"Damn."

Farrah elbows Kate, who smirks and steps back. Eva finds herself staring and forces herself to look away.

"Might I buy you a drink?" Farrah asks Luca.

He holds a hand out. "After you've danced with me."

"Deal." They disappear into the crowd, gone from view in an instant. Eva's impressed.

"That was my best mate, Farrah," Kate tells Eva, her voice just barely loud enough to be heard. Her smile is sheepish, and suddenly Eva gets it, gets how their friendship works - Kate doesn't like being in the spotlight, so Farrah takes all of the attention for her.

"She's been begging me to introduce her to your brother since the wedding," Kate continues. Eva winces at the memory of knocking over Kate's sister's enormous wedding cake.

"Seriously?"

"I think we just saved her quite a bit of money. She may have been close to hiring skywriters."

Eva laughs, and Kate watches, a grin spreading across her lips like she can't help it. Luca and Clark might have had a point - she does, for whatever reason, really like Kate and appreciates their friendship.

"Come on," Eva says. "I've already had two whiskeys, I think you have some catching up to do."

She leads Kate to the bar, and conversations quiet as they pass. The First Daughter and the princess, widely considered the most beautiful young women of their respective countries, shoulder to shoulder. It's a bit thrilling to think that all these people see them as a rich, untouchable fantasy, but Eva and Kate are the only ones who know about the Great Turkey Fiasco.

They stay by each other's sides even as the crowd swallows them up, and Eva is surprised to find she really likes having Kate next to her. Kate doesn't even seem to mind being shorter than her anymore. Eva introduces her to some White House intern guys, and as they blush and stutter around her, Kate's face is pleasantly neutral. Eva used to think that meant she was unimpressed, but now she knows it's bemusement Kate is barely concealing.

There's speeches, Luca gets in front of the crowd and talks about the immigration fund tonight's donations will support, a guy from the Spider-Man movies keeps trying to flirt with Eva, and Kate looks like she's genuinely having fun. At some point, Clark finds them and steals Kate away to talk at the bar. Eva watches for a moment and wonders what Kate said to have Clark laughing so hard he nearly falls out of his seat, but then the crowd overwhelms her again and she forgets.

Eventually, the band plays their last song and the DJ takes over, playing songs from the early 2000s that fill Eva with a sense of nostalgia from her childhood. Somehow, every single song stayed in rotation even when she was a teenager at school dances, and as she’s remembering crowded gyms and wimpy decorations, Kate taps her shoulder, a glass of champagne in her other hand. She still looks magically put together and fairly sober, but she’s definitely loosened up a little bit. Still, she’s standing stiffly straight, surveying the dancing crowd like a confused alien. It’s almost cute. Holy shit, Eva is more drunk than she’d thought.

“Come on, don’t you dance?” she teases in a low voice.

Kate shrugs a little. “I mean, sort of, but… family mandated dancing lessons don’t really cover… this.” She gestures to the room as a whole.

“This being what?” Eva prods. “Fun dancing, teenage dancing…” She takes Kate’s free hand and spins her. “...crazy dancing?” When Kate's spin slows to a stop, her hand still rests in Eva's palm for a moment. They both look at their hands, then up at each other.

Kate pulls her hand away, face flushed slightly. Eva figures the alcohol must be catching up to her. “Precisely.”

Eva shakes her head, still grinning. “Oh my God, you’ve never been to a party like this before, have you?”

“I think you already know the answer to that question.” Kate sets her drink on a nearby table and crosses her arms. Eva sighs and steps forward.

“Okay, first dancing lesson - this is yet another thing you’re overthinking. You need to loosen up.” She puts her hands on Kate’s hips, and every muscle in Kate’s body tenses up. “That is the  _ exact  _ opposite of what I just said.”

“Eva-”

Then the music changes, and adrenaline rushes through Eva’s veins, her excitement meter ramping all the way up. Miley Cyrus’s clear voice comes through the speakers, and Clark comes over, jumping up and down.

“Eva, this is _ our song _ !” he yells.

Eva laughs. “Fuck yes!” She lets go of Kate and spins to face Clark. “Would you look at that?!” She shouts over her shoulder to Kate. “Your first party in the USA, and they’re  _ playing _ Party In The USA!!”

Kate gives a small laugh as she steps back away from Eva and Clark. “Yeah, that’s… something.”

Eva looks back at Clark and laughs as he spins her under his arm like she just spun Kate, both of them screaming the lyrics along with literally everyone else in the room.

Except Kate. Every time Eva looks over, she’s hugging herself and staring at her shoes, still smiling but less brightly, looking pensive. It tugs at something in Eva’s stomach, and she looks away.

It’s probably just the alcohol talking.

Right as the song ends, it’s just about time for the countdown to midnight, and Eva grabs Kate’s hand and pulls her towards Clark, Luca, and Farrah, and for whatever reason, neither of them let go for several seconds when they stop.

The buzz of conversation from around the room fades into one loud countdown, and as they hit midnight and 2020 starts, Clark picks Eva up and kisses her.

It’s tradition between them, has been since before they even dated and long after - they always kiss at midnight on New Year’s. It’s not like anyone else is going to kiss either of them.

Well. Nobody else they  _ want _ to kiss.

As the dance floor erupts into laughter, Eva breaks away from Clark, laughter already on her lips. As the music kicks back up and the bass begins to pound, she turns back to resume talking with Kate.

Kate, who is nowhere to be seen.

Eva looks around, sees a snatch of a midnight blue dress in the doorway to the gardens and fights her way through the crowd towards it, wondering why Kate had left.

The door closes behind her, and the loud, pounding music fades to something softer and easier to ignore. She’s starting to shiver by the time she sees Kate under a tree.

She’s leaning with her back against the icy bark, staring at the sky through the bare branches. Her arms are crossed, and she looks thoughtful. Her dark eyes almost look like they’re sparkling with tears, but Eva can’t figure out why.

Eva opens her mouth to ask if she’s okay, but then she trips over a bench and the sound catches Kate’s attention.

“Oh, hi.” Kate pushes herself away from the tree with one foot. “Um, how long have you been there?”

“Like, two seconds.” Eva steps forward. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m all good.” Kate clears her throat and hesitantly meets Eva’s eyes, and Eva catches her breath. Have Kate’s eyes always been that pretty?

“Then… what are you doing out here?” Eva steps forward again. “All alone?”

“Star-gazing.” Kate looks up again. “Orion is up there somewhere, I’m looking for it.”

“Wow, you must have gotten pretty bored with the common-folk, huh?”

“I’m not  _ bored _ . What are  _ you _ doing out here, then? Don’t you have like, seven hundred blokes in there dying to dance with you?”

“Says the actual, literal fucking princess.” God,  _ why _ is Eva so  _ drawn _ to this girl?

Kate scoffs and looks away. “Whatever.”

It’s a long moment before she speaks again. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like to not be who you are? To be some random, anonymous person out there in the world?”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Eva studies every aspect of Kate’s face, her thoughtful expression, the dark blue glitter on her eyelids, her perfect lips. Something feels like it’s weighing heavy in the air, and any moment now it’s going to crush the both of them.

Kate shrugs, her gaze falling to the path below their feet. “Yeah, well… I don’t really want to dance with any of them.”

“Why not?”

She shrugs and looks away. “Not my type. None of them are, really.”

“Not good enough for you, you mean.”

“I never said that.” Kate flexes her jaw and sighs. “It’s all just a bit… much.”

Eva both completely understands what she’s feeling and doesn’t understand. Big events like this used to make her anxious and scared and worried, but after just a few years of them, she thrives off of them. Kate’s been doing them her whole life - shouldn’t she be used to them?

“What would you be if you weren’t the First Daughter?” Kate asks, her voice soft.

“I dunno, really.” Eva thinks for a moment. “Maybe a climatologist? I’ve always thought that would be cool.”

“Weather science? Really? You’re such a nerd.”

Eva nudges her - Kate’s dress is freezing to the touch. “Yeah, whatever. What about you?”

“An artist,” she says without hesitation.

“Can’t you already do that?”

Kate shrugs, fiddling with her sleeves. “It’s not considered proper for a woman in line for the throne. And besides, the traditional family career track is military.” She bites her lip and waits a moment before continuing. “I might date a bit more. If I wasn’t me.”

“Right. Because there’s absolutely nobody out there who wants to date a fucking princess.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Would I? You certainly don’t have a lack of options.”

Kate thinks for a moment, her gaze flickering all over the garden. “Well… the options I want… they aren’t options at all.”

“What?”

Eva’s not quite grasping what Kate’s trying to say. “I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Are you serious?” Kate raises an eyebrow. “You don’t?”

“Not at all.”

“Really?”

“Really, really.”

Kate sighs and looks up at the sky, then back at Eva. “You are just about as thick as it gets.”

And then Kate kisses her.

Eva freezes, trying to process what’s going on. Kate’s hands are cupping either side of her face, and her lips are cold but quickly warming up and  _ pressed against Eva’s lips. _

_ Our lips. _

_ Are TOUCHING. _

_ Kate’s kissing me. _

_ Am I kissing her? _

Eva’s not even sure when she made the decision, or if she even made it, but she kisses back, her hands brushing Kate’s waist (her dress is not as soft as it looks), letting her eyes close. She’s not even registering the faint beat from the music from the party, or the cold, or anything else. All she can think about is the fact that she  _ really likes this.  _ She really likes the feel of Kate’s hips under her hands, the hand digging into Eva’s hair, the lips pressed against hers and not pulling away.

But then they  _ do  _ pull away.

Kate steps back, her hands falling from where they were, and Eva opens her eyes hesitantly to see Kate’s incredulous expression. Kate mumbles an apology and a creative curse and then-

She turns and runs, faster than Eva has ever seen her go. Before she can blink, Kate is gone and Eva is alone in the garden.

She touches her fingers to her lips.

“Yo, what the fuck?”

\-------------

Farrah is having the time of her  _ life. _ This type of party is exactly her scene, plus the chance to flirt with the First Son of the United States?

Yeah, she is having a good time.

She’s reaching for another drink when someone grabs her arm.

“Farrah, I fucked up,” Kate says desperately. Her hand is freezing, and Farrah snatches her arm away.

“What, have a drink too many, mate? I swear, we need to take you out more-”

Kate shakes her head. “We have to go.”

Farrah snorts, grabbing her drink and lifting it to her lips. “C’mon, the night is still young!”

Kate pulls her closer so she can hiss something into her ear. “We have to bloody  _ go,  _ I just kissed the First Daughter.”


	4. 3 Geniuses and Eva

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Random text conversation about halfway through the book!  
> Eric would be Eva's brother, June's equivalent

Me: Eric Astley

First Prince: Not my name, not anyone's name, stop.

Me: Prince of the sea, husband to Ariel, king Eric

First Prince: I am blocking your number

Her royal bitchness: eva, please don't tell me farrah has indoctrinated you with classic disney movies

Me: Well, you let Clark get you into Queer Eye so

Actual demon of chaos: lmao

First Prince: What did you want, Eva???

Me: Where the fuck is my speech for Milwaukee? I know you took it

Her royal bitchness: do you have to have this conversation in the group chat?

First Prince: Part of it needed to be rewritten! i put it back with edits in the outside pocket of your messenger bag

Me: Reese is gonna kill you if you keep doing this

First Prince: Reese saw how well my tweaks to the talking points went over on seth meyers last week so she knows better

Me: Why the fuck is there a rock in here too

First Prince: That is a clear quartz crystal for clarity and good vibes do not @ me. We need all the help we can get right now

Me: Stop putting SPELLS on my STUFF

Actual demon of chaos: BURN THE WITCH

Actual demon of chaos: hey what do we think of this #look for the college voter thing tomorrow

Actual demon of chaos: [attached image]

Actual demon of chaos: i'm going for, like, depressed lesbian poet who met a hot yoga instructor at a speakeasy who got her super into meditation and pottery, and now she's starting a new life as a high-powered businesswoman selling her own line of hand-thrown fruit bowls

Me: …

Her royal bitchness: bitch, you took me there.

Me: alskdjfadslfjad

Me: CLARK YOU BROKE HER


	5. Claremont/Winslett 2020

Eva’s mom decided to hold the election night rally back home in Texas.

There’s not exactly a rule saying the sitting president can’t hold their rally in DC, but it is an unspoken tradition to do it in their home state.

Eva still remembers 2016. That election was bittersweet. They’d won Travis County by 76% (because of true blue Austin), but even the celebration in the streets didn’t change the fact that the state they stood in to make the victory speech was for the opposing party.

In the past month, Eva had thrown herself into her home state. She needed a distraction after the tabloid nightmare that had outed her and Kate and thrown their relationship into the public eye. Her notebook had rarely seen so much action; news stories about old court victories were joined by new speeches, messages about registration drives, polls, and shifting demographics. The logistics of a massive election day shuttle service that she helped propose and design. It’s 2020, and Texas is a battleground state for the first time in years. 

Eva has clear memories of all the most important events in her life, the moments her high school APUSH teacher would call “character defining”. She remembers when her parents split, she remembers when her mom announced her candidacy, she remembers flying to England just to tell Kate she loves her. And she remembers everything about the night her mom first won the presidency.

18 years old, in a dress straight out of a fashion magazine. She was in a hotel with her family while the crowd swelled outside, and when they called 270, she and Leo ran down the hallway, whooping and hugging and crying. It felt like her moment - that was her family, her mother - but in a way, she knew it wasn’t just their moment when she turned and saw Aaliyah staring at the screen, her mascara running down her face.

She’d looked across the crowd, at women who’d marched on Congress in 1965 and girls who’d never known a white man as a president (and, she’d realized with a thrill, wouldn’t know one now), and something had stirred in her chest, a sense of overwhelming pride. Leo and Clark seemed to be hit with it too as they approached the stage, and Clark gave her a well-meaning shove in front of them, letting her join her mom on stage first.

They’re next to her again now, sitting in their limo, all of them seemingly hit with a similar feeling like that night four years ago. Something about tonight, this night seems bigger.

“It’s too early to really call the exit polls, but I think we’ve got Illinois,” Clark says as the three of them climb out of the limo.

“That was projected. We’re on track so far.” Eva resists the urge to check her phone - she wants to remember every moment of being back in Texas for an election again.

“We’re not out of the woods, not by a long shot,” Clark reminds her. “Besides, I’m not liking the look of Pennsylvania.” 

“Guys.” Leo looks between them, looking exasperatedly handsome in a custom-fit suit. It’s annoying. Or maybe she’s just stressed. “Can’t we get  _ inside _ before y’all start obsessing over numbers?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Clark mumbles, but he’s still staring down at his phone, brow furrowed. Eva gives in and checks her own phone, and manages a grin when she sees the notifications she’d been hoping for. That is, until she reads what Kate is saying.

Her royal bitchness: pilot says we’re having visibility problems, might have to reroute and land somewhere else

Her royal bitchness: landing in dallas???? is that far???? your country is too bloody huge, i dont know anything about American geography

Her royal bitchness: cairo says that’s far

Her royal bitchness: why is one state bigger than my entire country wtf

Her royal bitchness: landing soon

Her royal bitchness: fuck fuck fuck, i’m so sorry. is everything okay on your end?

Me: Please get here now, things are shit, I’m stressing the fuck out and I miss you

Eva shakes her head and opens her news notifications. Twitter’s blowing up, and it’s making her anxiety worse. News sources, newscasters, random celebrities and talk show hosts, everyone has an opinion. She sees a tweet about the latest returns and her heart drops. Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin, all states she had expected to go blue, are too close to call. A tweet from the New York Times makes it even worse, something she hadn’t thought possible. They’re so behind in the electoral tally, 113 to 178. Fuck.

Inside the VIP room, campaign staff, friends and family, and congresspeople all mingle cautiously, anxiously. She can’t see them, but Eva knows on the other side of the events center, there’s a crowd of supporters with signs that say CLAREMONT 2020 and wearing shirts that say “HISTORY, HUH?” Those shirts still feel surreal to her - those emails were supposed to be between her and Kate, that was something she’d said to make Kate feel better, and now it’s the unofficial rallying call of the Claremont campaign. Of all the people in the country ready for four more years, ready for the new and the better. And she doesn’t really know how she feels about it - she’s just focusing on getting those four more years.

It’s supposed to be a party.

Eva is  _ trying _ not to stress. She knows how a presidential election works. When she was a kid, she’d sit on the living room floor, allowed to stay up hours past her bedtime, and as the night wore on, she’d color states in on a paper map with red and blue markers as they were called. She remembers how Leo had cheered so hard he’d fallen off the couch when they watched Obama beat McCain. She looks at him now, and the set of his jaw is the same, yet different.

It was magical then, but it’s personal now.

And they’re losing.

The sight of her stepdad, Eric, coming in through the side door isn’t totally unexpected, and she and Leo meet him in the corner on the same instinct. He’s gripping his phone with one hand, so tightly his knuckles are white.

“Your mother wants to speak to you,” he says. Eva automatically reaches for the phone, and he shakes his head. “Sorry, Eves, not you. Leo.”

“Oh.” Eva steps back as her brother takes the phone, and when he reaches for her hand, she takes it and squeezes. 

“Hey, Mom.” Leo takes a deep breath and squeezes Eva’s hand back. “What’s up?”

“Uh, hey, baby. Can you, uh, come in here? Please?” On the other end, their mother is her makeshift office with her core team.

“Is everything okay?”

“I, uh, I need you to help me rewrite this speech.” She takes a shaky breath. “My concession speech. In case we lose.”

Before she’s even done speaking, Leo is shaking his head. “No.  _ Hell _ no. I’m not writing you a goddamn concession speech, not ever, because we won’t fucking lose.”

“Honey-”

“No.” Leo lowers the phone from his ear and hangs up so forcefully Eva almost expects the phone screen to shatter. He yanks his hand away, and she automatically steps back.

“Leo-”

“We won’t lose,” he says, softer this time.

Eva hopes beyond hope that he’s right. She can’t imagine a Richards administration - can’t imagine the man who preyed on Luna and several other young men (she remembers Luna’s voice breaking as he said it), the man who sabatoged the Claremont campaign by outing the FDOTUS and the princess of Wales (she remembers how Kate refused to speak for fear of bursting into tears), the man who’s so infuriatingly smug she wants to punch him in that stupid smirk every time they’re in the same room (she remembers Clark clinging to her hand to keep her calm), as  _ president _ . Living in her mother’s room, working in her mother’s office, giving speeches at her mother’s podium.

Fuck no. Not happening. Not on her watch.

  
  


Aaliyah appears like magic with the words "Eva, your mother wants you to say something for the crowd". Her fussing and shepherding them towards the stage is almost comforting until the flash of her engagement ring catches Eva’s eye and she thinks of Cairo and Kate, stranded somewhere in Texas and  _ not here. _ Aaliyah pats Eva on the shoulder, and she almost expects her to say something encouraging.

“Fix your face,” she says, straightening the collar of Eva’s jacket. “Big smile, high energy, confidence. You know you got this.”

Eva turns helplessly to Leo, anxiously fiddling with the sleeves of her jacket. “What do I say?”

“Eves, there isn’t time for me to write you anything,” he tells her. “You’re a leader. Go  _ lead. _ You can do this, I know it.”

Fuck.

_Confidence_.  
Eva looks back down at the sleeves of her jacket and feels a ghost of a smile on her face. The jacket Clark had helped her pick out just the day before, the jacket they had bought online as a joke, the jacket she had never been serious about wearing. The jacket, the midnight blue bomber jacket with red, white, and blue stripes at the waist and sleeves. The jacket that went perfectly with her new tailored suit. The jacket which fit her, in more ways than one.

“Be  _ Eva, _ ” Clark had said when he passed it to her.  _ Be Eva. _

Eva is… Eva is herself. Eva is two secret words that told a few million kids across America that they weren’t alone. Eva is a letterman jacket in APUSH. Secret loose panels in White House windows. Fighting so, so hard for what you know is right. Ruining things because you want it so badly and yet getting up and trying again. Not just the first daughter. Not a princess, no. But to a lot of people, she could be something bigger. Maybe she was already something bigger.

Two feet from the stage, she stops and turns.

“Aaliyah?” She takes a deep breath. “Did they call Texas yet?”

“No,” she says. “Still too close.”

_ “Still?” _

Her smile is understanding, reassuring. “ _ Still.” _

Eva turns to Leo. Before she can get any words out, he pulls her into a tight, tight hug. “You got this. This is _you._ ” He presses something into her hand. “And so is this.”  
He pulls away and he and Aaliyah step back. Eva looks down into her hand. _Oh._ Her pride pin, her secret purchase that lived under her pillow for weeks before seeing the light of day. 

She takes a deep breath, fastens it onto the lapel of her bright jacket, and moves onto the stage.

The lights are blinding, but she knows this. She knows this is  _ her, _ all of it. And she knows, they still haven’t called Texas.

“Hey, y’all,” she says to the crowd. Another deep breath. Two. She leans into the microphone, hands steady. “I’m Eva Claremont-Sanchez, your first daughter.” The crowd goes wild, and Eva grins and means it. This is her. Whatever she says tonight, whatever  _ happens  _ tonight, this is her, and what she says, she intends to mean it.

“You wanna know what’s crazy, everyone? Right now, Anderson Cooper is on CNN saying Texas is too close to call.  _ Too close to call.  _ Now, law and science may be my passions, but believe it or not, I’m also kinda a history buff. And tonight? Tonight is about  _ history. _ The last time Texas was  _ too close to call _ was in 1976. In 1976, we were too close to call. And we went blue. It was Jimmy Carter, right after Watergate. He just barely squeezed out 51% of our vote, and we helped him win the presidency.

“Now, I’m standing here, and I’m thinking about history. I’m thinking about a reliable, hardworking, honest, Southern Democrat versus corruption, and maliciousness, and hate. And one big state full of people sick as hell of being lied to.”

The crowd loses it, and Eva almost laughs. Her voice is bright and raised as she speaks over the cheers and applause and stomping and hollering. “This is about history, y’all! Tonight is _about history._ We have a state, this beautiful state of ours, that can make history repeat itself. We have a state, filled with bright yellow t-shirts, like the ones I see here. History, huh? _History, huh?!_ A state ready to fight, _raring_ to fight _._ A state ready to make history repeat itself.” Eva let her words, her truth carry her on. “A state, OUR STATE, cheering a promise I made. That promise means a lot to me. And it’s tied to a lot right now, tied to a scandal and a love story and a nation that’s ready for something bigger. That promise is my truth. And I feel like now, it’s the truth of a lot of people. And you know what? I don’t mind that.” As she says it, she knows it’s true - that promise was for Kate at first, but now it’s for this crowd, for every crowd cheering the name Claremont. It’s a promise for America. It’s a promise for _Texas._ “Because this is _history._ We can learn from history, and we can make it repeat itself. So what do you say, Texas? History, huh? I bet we could make some!”  
After Eva repeats those special words, words that now lived outside of herself, the roar of the crowd said it all. The crowd yells, and Eva yells with them, lets it fill her up with the promise.

When Eva comes offstage, her heart is still thundering in her chest, and she nearly jumps out of her skin at a hand on her shoulder. She’s half-prepared to throw a punch when she turns around, but then she stops and catches her breath.

“That was brilliant,” Kate tells her. Her voice is loud, so Eva can hear her over the crowd, but it still feels like a quiet, personal moment. “You’re a genius. That ‘history, huh?’ thing? They’ll be learning about that speech in history classes for years.”

“Took you long enough to get here,” Eva manages to say. “You’re late.”

Kate shrugs and smiles. “Actually, I think I’m just in time for the upswing, yeah?” She reaches for Eva’s hands and presses a light kiss against her lips. “By the way, I like your pin.”

“Thanks.” Eva beams and takes a moment to just look at her. She looks amazing in a navy blue suit, that thin black bracelet that matches Chess’s on her wrist like always, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a yellow tie. But when Eva looks closer, it’s not the tie itself that’s yellow - it’s patterned with dozens of yellow roses.

“Your tie,” she breathes.

Kate touches it and smiles shyly at Eva. “Well, I read somewhere that the yellow rose of Texas is a thing, right? I thought that maybe it’d be good luck.”

“I am so in love with you.” Eva pulls Kate into a hug and buries her face in the collar of Kate’s blazer, catching her breath. She’s scared for the results, but now that Kate’s here, winning feels a thousand times more possible.

She wishes she’d been braver last year - she wishes she could’ve come to terms with who she was sooner. She wishes she hadn’t banished Kate to frozen shrubbery, that she hadn’t stood there and frozen up when Kate kissed her for the first time. But Kate’s here now, and Eva has a rainbow pride pin on her jacket, and as they walk hand-in-hand back to the VIP area, everyone is on their feet, watching Anderson Cooper and Wolf Blitzer announce Virginia, Colorado, Michigan, and Pennsylvania. They’re all for Eva’s mom, and each time they call the name Claremont, Kate squeezes Eva’s hand. Those four states almost make up their losing difference, but they still have to call the West Coast.

Cairo is here, too, of course, huddled in a corner with Aaliyah and Luna and Amy and Cash, and looking at them gives Eva a weird feeling, like that gang could probably bring down entire nations if they wanted to. She and Kate are still lingering by the wall, but she tightens her grip on Kate's hand and pulls her deeper into the room.

Slowly, that electric election magic starts to come back. Kate's tie, voices tinged with hope, loose confetti in Clark's hair.

And then at 10:30 is the big rush. Richards steals Iowa, Montana, and Utah, and seeing those states go red makes Eva's stomach twist, but then they get California, 55 votes, and she laughs, breathless. When she looks at Kate, who's clinging to her arm with her eyes fixed on the screen, she's chewing anxiously on her nails, the yellow polish Eva had learned was supposed to stop that bad habit already chipping off. Eva carefully reaches to pull her hand away from her mouth, and Kate awkwardly smiles at her.

"We've got California," Eva says softly, and Kate nods.

"Fuck, this is so stressful," she murmurs, and Eva laughs.

"You weren't even here in 2016."

"Thank God."

By midnight, they're solidly in the lead, and Eva almost feels giddy. The night is almost starting to feel like a party. Kate's across the room, with Leo, and she's too busy watching her two favorite people talk to stress too much. Time flies, and she actually manages to get her mind off of it for a little while, mingling and talking and drinking and hoping.

"Eva, get your ass over here," Clark calls. "They're gonna call Florida."

Kate slides an arm around Eva's waist as she joins her, Clark, Leo, and her father, and they anxiously watch Anderson Cooper's face on the screen. Something about his face looming over the map reminds Eva of the Hunger Games, but she doesn't have time to think about it, because  _ they're calling Florida. _

"Come on, you backyard-shooting-range motherfuckers," Aaliyah mutters behind Eva, scaring her a little.

Kate pokes Eva in the ribs. "Did-did she just say  _ backyard shooting range _ ? Is that a thing Americans have?"

"You have a lot to learn about America,  _ mija _ ," says Eva's father, not entirely unkindly.

And then the outline of Florida on the screen fills up with red and the name RICHARDS flashes across the screen.

"Oh, God, okay. Clark, what's the math?" Leo asks frantically. "Because I majored in nouns and I have no fucking clue and I'm kinda freaking out here."

"We have two options: get 270 or stop Richards from getting 270," Clark says, his voice shaky.

"Yeah, I know how the electoral college works!"

"You asked!"

"Shut up."

"Oh my God."

"Let's focus," Eva snaps. "We can either get 270 with Texas, or with both Nevada and Alaska. He has to get all three."

"So we have to get Texas now?" Kate asks.

"Not unless they call Nevada, but that never happens this early," Clark tells her.

She starts biting her nails again, and Eva is too distracted to stop her.

"Whoever wins Texas wins the presidency," Eva says softly. She takes her arm back from Kate's shoulders to bury her face in her hands.

"I’m gonna go stress eat some cold pizza," Leo decides and leaves. Kate puts a hand on Eva's shoulder, but she already feels like the room is too small and she's suffocating, and so she shrugs Kate's hand off.

A half hour later, everyone is in shock. Eva is racking her brain and searching her collection of election history, and she comes to the conclusion that this is the longest Texas has ever gone without being called. She’s hopeful, but there’s still a lingering doubt in the back of her head. Eva’s family seems to be feeling similarly anxious. Across the room, Aaliyah is shouting into her phone, and Cairo mumbles to Eva that her sister is having trouble getting into a daycare and put Aaliyah on the job to hopefully help her calm down. Luna has been pacing for twenty minutes - he might pace a hole all the way through the earth. Leo is gonna smell like pizza for a week. Eva’s dad might be praying - she’s having a hard time focusing on any one thing for long enough to figure it out. Her mother is too restless to stay upstairs and is talking Kate’s ear off - Eva’s poor girlfriend looks vaguely terrified.

Eva’s looking around again to try and find Clark when he sprints over to them, pulling someone along behind him - a girl with long, curled brown hair in a poll volunteer shirt. Eva has just enough time to recognize her as Clark’s high school girlfriend, Annleigh, before he starts talking, breathless.  
“Y’all!” he shouts, pushing her in front of him. “Annleigh just- I saw her and went over and she came from- God, Annleigh, tell them!”  
And Annleigh looks between them all and says, “We think you have the votes.”  
Leo and Eva exchange incredulous looks, and their dad steps forward, grabbing Annleigh’s other arm. “You think or you know?”  
“I mean, we’re mostly sure-”

“How sure?!”

“Well, they just counted another 10,000 ballots, Harris county-”

“Oh my god-”

“We might-?”

Clark beams at Annleigh.

Kate and the President run up, Eva’s mom rushing over to interrogate Annleigh. Kate, finally free from President Claremont’s stress ranting, latches back on Eva’s arm. “This is  _ really _ good,” she murmurs in Eva’s ear.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Oh my God, holy shit, guys, they’re calling it!” Eva’s dad yells. Eva turns around so quickly she almost knocks Kate over. She stares down Anderson Cooper on the screen, begging silently, and counts the seconds.

_ One. _

_ Two. _

_ Three. _

_ Four. _

_ Five. _

The grey on the map floods brilliant blue.

The entire room immediately explodes. Eva’s mom is shouting “FOUR MORE YEARS!  _ FOUR MORE YEARS _ !” The building fills with the storm of cheers, pressing up from the rest of the building, from the crowd outside, from the streets and the hills and the city around them, from the country itself. Eva counts, double counts in her mind.  _ 301 electoral votes. The presidency. _

No fucking Richards administration.

Eva’s ears are ringing, and it takes her a moment to really process those 301 votes. Kate throws her arms around Eva and pulls her into a kiss, then shoves her towards her family. Leo hugs her so tight he picks her up right off the floor, and when she looks, Clark has Annleigh pulled into a victory kiss. And then her father is hugging her, and Cairo and Aaliyah are aggressively making out against a stack of CLAREMONT/WINSLETT 2020 signs, and Amy is losing her shit in the corner, waving her phone around so her wife can see everything on Facetime, and  _ they won.  _ And they won  _ Texas. _

_ History, huh? _

The nets hanging from the rafters are cut loose so confetti falls over the crowd, and Kate trips over a balloon right into Eva’s arms, still laughing, and Eva, high on the biggest adrenaline rush she’s ever felt, spins her around.

Eva had promised, ages ago, in those once-secret emails, that they would be okay. And now, with the Lometa Longshot scoring another victory, standing in a blue Texas, after secret emails and texts and sneaking around to steal moments together, after accidentally falling in love with her sworn enemy at the worst possible time,  _ they’re fucking okay. _

“V,” Kate shouts into her ear. “V, I have to tell you something. I’ve bought a brownstone, in- in Brooklyn.”

Time stops for half a second.

“Kate, if this is a bad joke, I’m dumping you, international relations be damned.”

“It’s not a joke.” Kate beams at her.

As Eva kisses Kate again with everything she has, she thinks it’s a good thing everyone else is already crying. Because she can  _ imagine _ it: college courses with way less relevancy to her life, no more elections to worry about, and waking up with Kate in her arms every single morning.

The world is spinning, and  _ her _ world makes sense, and Aaliyah’s voice rings out from somewhere to Eva’s left. “Okay, c’mon people.” Eva looks over, still holding Kate. Aaliyah and Eva’s mom are side by side, Aaliyah trying to corral the first family and Eva’s mom trying to listen to Richard’s concession call over all the sounds of cheering. “C’mon, victory speech in 15. Places, let’s go!”

The Claremont campaign is shuffled through a hallway amid screams from the crowd that slowly grow louder, and then the president walks onstage, waving, and all hell breaks loose. Eric follows her, then Clark and Leo, and Eva starts to follow but pauses as Kate lets go of her hand.

"Um. Why are we not holding hands right now?" Eva asks, turning to look at her.

Kate shrugs. "It's your moment. Go bask in it."

"Excuse you, you are a part of this family now." Eva holds a hand out. "C'mon. We're doing this together, babe. This and everything else from now on, if we're really forever."

The word forever hangs in the air for a moment, and Eva studies Kate’s face. In the past year, she’d learned to see through Kate’s neutral facade to tell what she was thinking, but now, Kate truly isn’t reacting, and it’s a bit scary.

And then Kate smiles like she's trying not to but she can't help it, and she takes Eva's hand and lets her lead her onto the stage. For the first time in American history, a British royal is onstage while the winner of an election gives their victory speech. Eva slides an arm around her waist and throws the other one around Clark's shoulders as President Claremont starts to speak.


End file.
